


The Soulmate Tales (abridged)

by cleverqueen



Series: Coldwave Week 2017 [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: ColdWave Week 2017, M/M, Soulmates, but not the writing on your arm kind, great-uncle-in-law Geoffrey), the author tries and fails to rip off the Canterbury Tales (sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleverqueen/pseuds/cleverqueen
Summary: Day 2: SoulmatesFed up with the Legends, Savage curses them to search for their soulmates. Strangely, Mick and Len seem totally fine, which means they have to take care of the others. (But they’re coming for you, Savage! As soon as their shipmates can breathe again.)Set soon after Mick returns from being Kronos. Not actually AU?





	The Soulmate Tales (abridged)

They’d tracked Savage to a small castle in medieval Cornwall. Fog rolled in from the moors. Green fields smelled of sheep, blanketing the castle’s outer grounds. Thick stones protected the inhabitants within. 

Len barely managed not to laugh when Sara wondered aloud, “Should I be making a ‘have fun storming the castle’ joke?”

Rip was not amused. “What?”

Len stayed quiet, though. He wasn’t drawing attention to himself. He needed to work on keeping his cool, emotionless persona. If he could believe in his own hype, it wouldn’t hurt as much that post-Kronos Mick was ignoring him. _I was coming back, damn it!_ In the dark of his lonely bedchamber, he feared what future fate had kept him from returning for his partner.

The Legends did, indeed, storm the castle. Not that anyone cared. They just walked right in and followed Gideon’s comms-given directions into a large dining hall.

At a long table, a medieval war-king presided over his feasting knights and ladies. He was a blond behemoth, covered in scars. 

At the king’s left sat a regal lady, a coronet resting like dew upon her brown hair. At the king’s right was Savage. His near-black hair and villainous goatee were the same as always. He looked every inch the evil wizard advisor.

Len shook his head. _So many centuries, and he still hasn’t tried a new look._ He heard Mick snort behind him and knew his estranged partner was thinking the same thing. Would it kill Savage to visit a different barber? What would happen when this style wasn’t fashionable and a helpful young stylist changed it for him?

“Welcome, friends,” said the king.

“Ah, yes, hello,” said Rip. If it were up to Len, Rip wouldn’t be captain. Maybe wouldn’t even be on the trip. “We’re travelers from a foreign land, here to speak with, ah—” He gestured at Savage.

If face-palming were a thing real people did, Len would have done it.

“Be welcome at my table,” said the king.

“About that,” said Rip. 

Sara poked him in the ribs until he shut up. Then she waved at the regal lady who, bemused, waved back.

“From whence have you come?” asked the king.

And that single question poked too many holes in Rip’s story. Rip shrugged and jumped on the table to get close to Savage as quickly as possible.

Had he just expected to show up and confront his nemesis? He probably had. Len sighed and fished his cold gun from under his blue traveling cloak.

In seconds, the hall rang with steel on steel, flesh on flesh, grunts of pain and screams of fury. Of course Rip had to start fight in a hall full of knights. Of course he did.

Len took a few potshots and made his own little moat of ice, happy to clear the space around him. Anyone who attempted to cross the line found himself slipping on ice... and then encased in it. From his island, he could check on the others:

  * Sara grinned from atop a growing mound of groaning bodies, someone’s blood on her cheek. She was doing more than all right on her own.
  * Firestorm cowered before kitchen servants who splashed them with buckets of water. Hah! Len wished he’d brought a camera for that one.
  * Mick laughed, happily trading blows with an equally amused king. They were having a good time and didn’t need his interference.
  * Kendra’s wings buoyed her to the ceiling rafters while she bided her time, dagger clenched in pale fingers. Good, she was prepared.
  * Ray had taken off his glove and was comparing armor joints with a man whose sword swings he’d avoided only moments before. Only Ray.
  * Rip was getting choked by a tall man all in green. Len iced that knight from behind.



Finally, the hall was quiet except for unhappy groans from the floor. The Legends, panting and flushed, faced off with Savage, the last contemporary standing.

“Your time has come, Savage,” said Rip very seriously.

Len snorted at the unintentional pun. Mick guffawed from the other side of the room, only to be given a quelling look by Ray.

“You always overestimate yourself, gareeb,” Savage smarmed. “Here I am in the seat of my power, and you challenge me?”

“We have something you don’t know about,” said Sara, trying to get in her own taunting. In the process, she almost gave away their advantage: the existence of Kendra’s dagger. Hopefully, she’d grow out of that impulsiveness as she got older.

Savage smiled, lip-corners obscured by his beard. “As do I.” He lifted his hands overhead and chanted in Egyptian. A light formed between his palms as his fingers and his mystic syllables danced. 

Len didn’t know what the light was, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want it touching him.

With a screech, Kendra dove from the ceiling. 

Savage opened his arms and tilted his face up, as if inviting her in. The light between his hands grew until it encompassed the space over his head. 

Then it exploded out into the room.

Len’s skin tingled like he had a full-body tattoo and had just gone through an MRI, unsure if the skin-crawl was in his mind or going to shake him apart. His ears were filled with screams. He blinked hard against the light.

  * Ray, Sara, and Rip had collapsed to the ground. They rolled around as if trying to put out a fire, shuddering and wailing.
  * Stein and Jax had separated and fallen to their knees; weakly, they reached for one another and reformed Firestorm before lying down on among the defeated knights.
  * Kendra dropped from the sky, her pained cries more human than hawk. Mick caught her before she hit flagstone.



Mick was fine. That was good. But what had happened to the others?

From the floor, Firestorm croaked that question so Len didn’t have to ask it. “What’s going on?” they asked.

“Hahaha,” said Savage. _He actually said ‘hahaha.’ I’ve got to tell Lisa later. And maybe the Flash. He’ll be thrilled that other people’s villains are more ridiculous than his._ “I’ve cursed you all.” He opened his arms wide, as if daring them to strike him. “You’re all weak fools. You will die soon if you cannot find your soulmates. And, oh, there’s nothing to help you. No way to survive the separation but by living through the pain.”

Sara pushed up onto her hands and knees, breathing harshly, then collapsed again.

“Blah blah blah,” said Len, unimpressed with the villain monologue. His own were much better. He cocked his cold gun. “Undo it.”

Savage spun around to look at Len directly. Apparently he hadn’t noticed some of his enemies were still standing until Len had said something. _Centuries unable to die must have destroyed his situational awareness._

“How are you still standing?” demanded Savage. He reminded Len of his little sister when he’d confiscated her toys during an outbreak of chicken pox. 

“I’m cold. I’m the void. No emotional turmoil can destroy me.” If only Captain Cold truly lived up to his own hype. _I’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn with your name on it, pal._

From behind Savage, a blast of fire caught the sorcerer’s robes on fire. “Me, I’m crazy all the time, and fire is my soulmate,” Mick said. “So do like the man says and undo it, or else I’ll keep burning you for eternity.”

“I hadn’t tried this on crazy people before. My mistake.” Savage nodded and slipped out of his robes like he was simply preparing for bed. Len had to admit that the man had ‘uncaring megalomaniac’ down to a style. “Unfortunately, I can’t change what has been done. But tell you what, I won’t kill you or your friends.” 

Len’s ears began to ring. No, not ring. That was the sound of armored feet slapping against stone floors. More knights were coming!

“I’ll let you go,” said Savage. “Good luck not going as crazy as your pyro friend.”

Well, it wasn’t like Kendra could do her thing like this. Mick and Len gathered their companions in their arms and dragged them back the way they’d come.

Gideon could keep them all sedated while they figured out their next move.

***

Gideon did, in fact, keep the Legends sedated. Gideon also knew how to find soulmates. Len didn’t pretend to understand it, though Mick certainly did. Mick had used his hard-won knowledge from the Time Masters to plot with the AI, then refused to leave the crew sedated while the remaining two renamed the Waverider to the Jolly Roger. 

Mick said things like, “We can’t abandon them.”

Len gripped his shoulders and tried to communicate that he would never leave Mick behind, that he wasn’t heartless, that he hadn’t meant, that he still.... all with the squeeze of a hand on an arm. He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded.

“I’ve found Mr. Palmer’s soulmate,” said Gideon. 

“Who is it?” Len asked.

Gideon pulled up a holographic map of STAR Labs. “Mr. Palmer’s soulmate is—” And then she gave latitude and longitude, time and date.

Mick explained, “Voice doesn’t know _who_ it is. We’re following the resonance in Haircut’s soul.”

“When two souls vibrate in tandem,” said Gideon, “they relax into a larger waveform. Soulmates.”

Well, it made as much sense as anything else since Len had joined up with the Waverider.

***

_The Scientist’s Tale_

STAR Labs, 2017. It looked a lot like STAR Labs, 2016, though apparently that was a different Harry Wells. 

Mick and Len brought Ray in on a floating stretcher. It didn’t bump against either of their legs or arms; they carried and walked in synch. As always. Even the Time Masters couldn’t take that away from them, Len supposed.

“What? No. You can’t be here.”

“Hello, Cisco.” Len flashed sharp teeth at the scientist. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for you.”

“Even if he is,” Mick grumbled, “you’d be for Haircut, not Cold.”

“What?” asked Cisco, utterly confused.

“What?” echoed Wells, West, the little Wests, Snow, and—of course—the Flash, once they’d congregated in the same room.

So Len explained about Savage’s soulmate curse, and Mick stuck a needle full of adrenaline into Palmer’s veins. 

“What are you doing?” exclaimed the one medical doctor in the room. (Snow)

Ray sat straight up on his stretcher, gasped, and fell off it onto the floor. 

The Flash darted forward and helped palmer into a more comfortable sitting position. “Don’t you worry, Ray. We can beat this.”

And then Ray reached up and locked lips. With the Flash. _Isn’t he engaged to mini-West? Oops._

The Flash just sort of stayed still— _gotta be difficult for him—_ and eventually moved his lips in a back and forth manner that just looked wrong.

Cisco giggled. “Awk-ward,” he singsonged.

Ray drew in a deep breath. “Sorry about that,” he said. “What’s going on, guys?”

“Scarlet’s your soulmate,” Mick explained. Simple, concise, and not really helping Ray at all.

“What?”

“We’ll leave you to explain it to him,” said Len to the Flash and the rest of the Flashettes. “You can’t leave Central City, so we’ll leave Palmer here until we get this worked out.”

“But guys,” Ray whined, “I’m a Legend. I belong with you.”

Mick shook his head. “Don’t you want to stay with your soulmate?”

Ray looked to the Flash, who had turned on his puppy-dog big eyes. “Maybe?” Ray said. “But we’ve been friends a while and never needed to be together all the time before, so...”

“Except now you’re _soulmates_ ,” Len drawled. He remembered Ray’s screaming and thrashing in the restraints until Gideon found a vein to administer the sedative. Nothing was worth that. He liked Ray well enough, certainly enough to spare him that torture again. “Stay here. We’ll see how it goes.” 

“How come you two are okay?” asked the Flash.

“You know us,” Mick said.

Len could only be glad that Mick was here to back him up. They might be fighting a bit right now, but they were partners. They worked together and knew how to get along. They’d get through this weird soulmate curse and show Savage why messing with them was a bad idea. “No new rules are going to keep me down,” Len agreed.

With that, they took their leave. Watching their crewmate make eyes at their nemesis was too weird.

***

_The Assassin’s Tale_

“Mr. Snart, Mr. Rory,” Gideon greeted the returning criminals, “I’m pleased to inform you that Ms. Lance is resonating from inside the med lab. Would you like me to wake her up?”

While Sara had done better at fighting the debilitating pain Savage’s curse apparently afflicted the rest of the Legends with, it wouldn’t be right to wake her before she needed to be aware. “No, thank you, Gideon,” Len said.

Mick hmphed, but didn’t argue. He slid into the captain’s chair and tapped the console a few times. “Gonna follow the Voice’s directions. Strap in.”

Unlike the last time, Mick waited until Len had buckled up before taking off.

***

They landed in Southern Alabama. Outside was hot and muggy. Condensation formed on the ship’s skin.

“I’d have expected Nanda Parbat,” Len said, hoisting his end of Sara’s stretcher.

“No accounting for soulmates,” Mick said.

They strode forward, Sara suspended between them, until they reached a huge plantation house. It was tall and white and beautiful. It made Len shiver with disgust, and he vowed to rob the place on the way out.

The front door opened, and out stepped Vandal Savage. He wore a suit made of pale beige linen, and had the keys to an ostentatious Bentley in his hands.

“What the—?” Len stepped backwards, and Mick came with him readily. They tucked down behind a hedge as if that had been their plan all along. “Savage can’t possibly be Sara’s soulmate.”

Mick grumbled his agreement. “Back to the ship?” he suggested.

Len nodded, and they crept back the way they’d come, careful to stay off the road in case Savage (and his Bentley) happened upon them again.

***

Nanda Parbat, 2017. The fortress walls to the League of Assassins seemed to be impregnable stone. Last time they’d visited here, the Legends needed to sneak around, and they’d been caught anyway. This time, Len and Mick carried Sara’s stretcher right to the front gate.

A portcullis creaked upwards. The heavy main door groaned open. It was all very medieval castle chic, and Len had seen a medieval castle recently. Seemed odd for Eastern assassins, but that was none of his business.

“Hello there,” said Mick to the assassins surrounding them. In the entryway’s firelight, spears glistened and swords gleamed. Really. Would using a gun kill any of these people? Such pointless drama.

“Follow,” one of the assassins ordered. 

Mick and Len glanced at each other, shrugged, and did as instructed with Sara suspended between them.

Down twisty passageways, thick with tapestries and decorative spears that might not be simply decorative, they emerged into a sick room. Amid the stones and the sconces, an IV drip seemed out of place. Yet a plastic bag hung suspended from a metal pole beside an occupied bed.

“Think you made a mistake, buddy,” said Mick.

Len nodded. “Our friend doesn’t need medical attention.”

The guide-assassin didn’t reply, only motioned them towards the occupied bed. A thin woman laid under covers piled high. Her glossy, dark hair fell in tangles around her pillow. Scars caressed her skin like silvery lovers.

The guide-assassin injected something into the IV bag, then stood in a frozen salute. When the woman’s eyelids fluttered, he reported for duty. “Ra’s. Your Beloved has returned with an escort.”

The woman stirred and struggled to sit up. “Sara?” Her gaze had yet to focus.

The guide-assassin bowed and let himself out. So nice that he cared for his leader’s security in her damaged frailty. 

Len sighed and approached her. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “No need to stand for us.” He reached behind her to adjust her pillows and help her sit.

She gave him a weak glare, but soon her focus skipped past him to where Mick was administering Sara’s adrenaline.

As with Ray, Sara came to wakefulness with a gasp. Unlike with Ray, she took a moment to twitch her fingers, then her legs and arms, before she sat up using only her abdominal muscles. Len couldn’t help but be impressed by her control.

“Hello, Nyssa,” she said. She looked at Mick, still hovering over her. “I was a bit out of it when he explained. Did Savage really sentence us to lives of pain without our soulmates?”

“Yep,” said Mick.

“Thankfully,” Len interjected, being _much_ more helpful than his partner, “we’ve found yours. Congratulations.”

Sara snorted a laugh. 

Nyssa smoothed her hair back with a shaking hand. “Perhaps you could fill me in.”

“Of course.” Sara made her way to her soulmate’s bedside and took over the hair-stroking. She leaned in close so they could whisper, intimate. Her hair made a blond privacy screen.

“They’re so cute,” Len cooed, half mocking and half meaning it.

A whoosh of hot air whizzed past his face, and distracted Len from the spectacle Sara was happy to make of herself. He looked to his partner.

Mick’s flame jet petered out, and he holstered his weapon again. “What, I’m not cute?”

“Awww, Mickey, you’re the cutest arsonist I know.”

Mick knocked their shoulders together. His grin was fond when he made the necessary reply, “I’m the only arsonist you know.”

Sara broke in, teasing. “If you two could stop flirting for a second, I can’t come back with you.”

Len nodded. “Of course not.” Sara’s soulmate wasn’t leaving that bed and would clearly have responsibilities to the League of Assassins whenever that changed.

“We’ll come back for you,” Mick promised.

***

_The Professor’s Tale_

The Waverider landed on grass outside a fenced pasture in 2114. Len, Mick, and Firestorm exited the hold, only to be greeted by the scents of hayfever and manure. Len would be so happy to get back to a city when this detour ended.

“A strange year to breed horses,” Len observed. 

Firestorm floated off the ground, trying not to set anything alight. “Are you sure we’re not going to run into Savage again? Maybe this is a bad idea. Gray’s already married, and Jax doesn’t want to know his person. We can go back to the ship, maybe find someone for you two.”

“I’ve got your sedative in my pocket,” Mick reassured the Jax half of Firestorm, somehow knowing he was mostly worried about the pain coming back. “Once Stein meets his soulmate, you two split up, and I’ll knock you right out.”

“Why _did_ you run into Savage anyway?” Firestorm wondered aloud.

“He resonated,” said Mick.

“Probably because it’s _his_ curse that has you all like this,” Len added.

“You’re swamped with his power,” Mick said. He’d been working with Gideon on getting the resonation-fixes, so he’d be the one to know.

“‘Us all,’ but not you two,” mused Firestorm.

“Yes, yes, very mysterious. So strange. Let’s go to the main house, shall we?” Len gestured his two (three?) companions ahead to where a tiny cottage sat on the edge of the pasture. 

The front porch was only big enough for one, so Firestorm gathered their courage and knocked on the door. 

Speakers crackled to life around them. “Sorry I’m not home right now,” said a smooth male voice. “If I’m not in the barn or exercising the horses, I should return in nine hours. If this is an emergency, ring the doorbell. If this is my older brother, make yourself at home. See ya.”

Firestorm backed away from the door and rejoined the other two. “Should we wait?”

Len’s eyes wanted to roll, but he kept them steady via force of will alone. If anything counted as an emergency _,_ it was this. People in pain, check. A bad guy getting away while the heroes were busy, check. Len having no patience for this whole soulmate search, check. 

With a huff, Len ascended to the porch and rang the doorbell. In a very few seconds, the speakers let him know that the owner was on his way. “Done,” Len said, “and you can blame it all on me if he’s unhappy.”

Firestorm frowned. “Even counting the experimentation in the sixties, a male soulmate seems....” They trailed off, unsure what adjective they were hunting for, but both uncomfortable with reality. 

“At least it’s not Savage,” Mick said, and Len puffed out a laugh, even though Firestorm were too nervous to appreciate the humor in it.

A figure appeared over a hill, riding a red horse at a slowing trot. As it got close enough, the man atop it greeted them. “Hey there,” he called out.

The three waved. Firestorm’s shaky arm made a dangerous arc in the air, but the guy on the horse didn’t even appear to notice; either he was too polite, or he got strange visitors every day. Or 2114 was wilder than the Legends had expected.

Mick leaned in and whispered to Firestorm, “Can you feel him? Is he the one?”

Firestorm nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything. Or maybe Jax and Stein were fighting inside their shared head. Who knew? Len shouldn’t try to guess other people’s motivations. When it came to friends and family, that rarely worked out for him. Except Mick. He could usually guess Mick’s motives. Especially when the motive was fire. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Welcome to my ranch,” the man said. He dismounted his horse and patted it on the neck, keeping the placid animal close. 

“It’s... nice?” Firestorm offered.

“Such a city boy,” Mick said, shaking his head. He took the lead, more comfortable in this environment than the rest of them. “Great place you’ve got. We’d love to chat, but we’re here because you’re this guy’s soulmate.” He jerked a thumb in Firestorm’s direction.

Len despaired for Mick’s subtlety. _Sure, Mick, just lay it out like that._ But he kept his mouth in a welcoming half-smile and his hands unthreateningly at his sides, wrists facing out for maximum trustworthy vulnerability. _One of us has to look meek and easy to overpower, or else Stein’s soulmate is going to get back on his horse and run away._

The guy took Mick’s words in stride. “A soulmate?” He looked Firestorm up and down, head tilted to the side. “Can’t say I expected that one. Nor to find out I was tied to a pillar of flame. How Biblical.”

Jax and Stein separated then, and Mick immediately jabbed a screaming Jax with the prepared sedative.

“Maybe you want to bring your friend inside?” the man suggested. 

Mick picked Jax up, bridal style, and followed him. Once Jax was laid on the single couch, the remaining four men sat around a small wooden table. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” The man held out his hand to Stein. “Julian Ghosh.”

“Martin Stein.” When Stein took his soulmate’s hand, he relaxed from head to toe. His jaw went lax, his shoulders descended, and a tapping foot Len hadn’t noticed came to stillness. “You have no idea how painful it’s been without you.” As if realizing how odd that sounded, Stein attempted to backtrack. “In a physical sort of way. No, I mean, I’m not coming on or trying to.... Help?” 

This appeal to the room at large made the man—Julian—chuckle. Apparently, he found Stein cute. “You’re lucky you have already-soulmated friends who can look after you.”

Len and Mick both held out their hands and made variations on the ‘who me?’ gesture while Stein spluttered his negations.

Finally, Len put the professor out of his misery. “I’m just too cold inside to have a soulmate,” he said.

“And I’m too crazy about fire. No human soulmates need apply,” Mick reprised his earlier argument, but he looked at Len fondly when he said it.

Under the table, Len took a chance and reached out a hand for Mick’s leg. He could knock into it with a fist if Mick wasn’t willing to be more friendly, but Mick’s own hand was ready and waiting palm up on his thigh. They laced their fingers together, invisible to the others. Julian grinned at them like he knew just what they were doing and approved. Yeah, sure, Mick and Len had long had A Thing (as Lisa would put it), but how did he know? They’d just met this guy.

“I’m sure the two of you will find your soulmates eventually,” Stein told Mick and Len, like he was lecturing them.

Everyone shook their heads at him, which Stein probably would have protested except that he shuddered suddenly, no longer stable. 

Julian reached out to steady his soulmate, and this time he didn’t let go of his arm. The pair remained grasped together in support and togetherness. “You’re not going to be okay without me around, are you?”

Stein frowned, even has his eyes drooped with calm. “You believe us? Just like that? Without doing any tests or forming competing hypotheses?”

Mick explained, “The professor likes to science his way to conclusions.” Unspoken, but clear: ‘which was why he hadn’t figured out Mick and Len had A Thing, soulmates or no.’

Julian hummed. “Professor, hmm?” He seemed honestly interested in Stein’s life. “Are you with a university when you aren’t gallivanting around with these two?” 

“There are seven of us, actually,” Stein corrected.

“Eight if you count Gideon,” said Len.

Stein nodded his acknowledgement of the correction but didn’t admit he’d been wrong. “And, yes, I am attached to a university in Central City. What’s your degree in? If it’s complimentary to mine, we should be able to do some amazing work.”

Julian held up his hands to ward off Stein’s enthusiasm for academics. “Whoa there. I don’t have a degree. Don’t need one. I like my horses and my quiet, and that’s been good enough for me.”

“Oh.” Stein seemed disturbed, enthusiasm cut short.

“He’s plenty smart, professor,” Mick said, getting to the heart of Stein’s worries. Mick read people so well. It was why Len always took his advice on crewmembers and accepted any deals Mick wanted to make with outsiders.

Len reassured Stein, “I’m sure you’ll learn to like your soulmate.” Even if he didn’t, Stein’s other choice was to writhe in pain for the rest of his life, and drag Jax along with him into soulmate withdrawal. Arranged marriages—or the soulmate equivalent—couldn’t be as bad as that.

Julian nodded to Len, clearly pleased someone else in the room had enough emotional intelligence to get the conversation back on track... even if Len’s EQ was limited to his marks and didn’t spread into his own life. 

“I’m sure we will,” Julian agreed. “Now, let me call the rancher down the road and ask him to look after the horses.”

“Thank you,” Len said.

Stein didn’t follow. “What?” His ‘confused’ face made him look like he’d stumbled into a Family-owned drycleaners and been told they wouldn’t reattach his shirtfront buttons.

“It’ll only take me a moment,” Julian said. “Then I’ll pack up and go with you. Can’t leave my soulmate alone.”

***

_The High Priestess’ Tale_

“If there’s no one left in 2017,” Len began with an elongated drawl, giving Mick a chance to jump in and refute the assumption. When no refutation was forthcoming, he finished, “Let’s wrap up Kendra. All we need to do is grab another Carter. That should be easy.”

Mick slid into the captain’s chair on the Waverider’s bridge. “Sounds good to me.” He set a course, then toggled the shipwide comm system. “All right, Professor. Hope you and Cowboy are strapped in. We’re taking off in five, four—” And then he punched the final button for lift off.

It was petty and ridiculous, and Len couldn’t help it. He laughed.

Mick met his eyes and laughed along with him. His eyes sparkled, and his teeth gleamed. Len cursed himself for every kind of fool who’d read _Twilight_ (just to know what his little sister was getting into). _Mick’s not a sparkly, stalker vampire, and I’m not a helpless-yet-competent heroine. Get over these emo descriptions, Leonard._ Next thing he knew, Mick would have ‘orbs’ instead of ‘eyes.’ 

***

They landed in 2532, the country formerly known as Turkey. 

Stein and Julian stumbled onto the bridge, and Stein was already cursing. “Damn it, Mr. Rory.”

Gideon cut him off. “My apologies for interrupting, Professor Stein, but Carter Hall is already dead in this time.”

Len would have _sworn_ they’d double checked the historical records before choosing this time period. “How did he die, Gideon?”

Gideon pulled up a hologram. The shaky video footage showed Vandal Savage slicing future-Carter’s carotid artery and cackling like the villain he was. “This recording was made only a few seconds ago.”

“Huh,” said Mick.

“That’s all you have to say!” demanded Stein. He might have continued venting, but his soulmate pulled him back to sit in one of the chairs.

“This isn’t a problem,” Len said. “We’ll just... grab a different Carter.” It was never easy watching someone die, especially someone you knew. “Gideon, you can cut the transmission now.”

“Of course, Mr. Snart.”

“Gideon, let’s follow Kendra’s next best resonance,” Mick ordered.

“I’ve sent the data to the captain’s chair,” Gideon reported.

Stein sniffed. “Why is _he_ the captain?” Len didn’t like the man’s derogatory tone, and that must have shown on his face because even Stein noticed it and tried for a more conciliatory manner when he followed up with, “I’d think that _you,_ Mr. Snart, would be the more obvious choice in your partnership.”

Len felt hot anger creeping up his neck and cold fury freezing the veins to his heart. How dare Stein disparage Mick’s abilities? Did he forget that Mick had training direct from the Time Masters? After Rip, only one person on this ship could say that, and it wasn’t Len.

Julian just shook his head and offered Len a small shrug. 

It was enough to calm Len’s ire. “We played Rock Paper Scissors for it. I lost.”

Stein’s mouth opened and closed like a broken doll’s. Len smirked.

“We’re taking off in five”—Mick’s singsong had them all scrambling for seats and buckles—“four, three, two, one.” Pause. Pause. Pause.

The ship shuddered to life, and Mick’s laughter made a lovely soundtrack to the action.

***

A helipad on top of a building in NYC, 1977. As soon as they landed, “Cold As Ice” came on the bridge’s speakers. 

“They’re playing my song,” said Len. “Thank you, Gideon.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Snart.”

Mick choked on laughter. Or annoyance. Sometimes it was hard to tell. 

Stein wasn’t quite so amused. “Did you train the AI to play this whenever you came to a year it’d be on the radio? That’s a waste of Gideon’s resources!”

Len didn’t want to hear Stein’s lecture. “Where’s Carter, Gideon?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Snart, but it appears he’s just been killed by Vandal Savage.”

Mick pounded a fist onto his chair arm and bolted to his feet, ready to fight fate and Savage both. “Are you kidding me?” 

“This makes no sense,” Stein murmured. “Why would we detect the most resonance at this moment if this is when Carter dies.”

“Twice,” Len pointed out. Stein was right. Once was an accident, twice was a pattern. “It can’t be only about his death, otherwise plenty of other Carters would be just as good.”

Julian bit his lip, then spoke up. _Good, he’s not too shy around us._ “Maybe it’s the man who kills him?”

“We know Carter is her soulmate,” Stein said, shutting down that line of inquiry.

Mick hissed through his teeth. “Nothing says she only has one. We get the most resonance when Savage and Carter are intertwined and bloody...”

Len finished the thought, “They’re _both_ her soulmate.” _Ick._ Len shivered. “Let’s just... not deal with that right now. Who’s next?”

“Might I suggest Jefferson next? We are tied together, after all, and having both of us available would likely be beneficial.”

“Sounds good,” said Mick.

Len shivered again. He couldn’t shake the thought. _Savage._ It was perverse. The man had clearly lost control a long time ago, probably in his mortal lifetime when he thought killing the object of his affections was a good idea. “I’m so glad Savage isn’t my soulmate.”

“You don’t know that,” Stein said. “After all, you suffered no affects from his soulmate curse whilst you were in his presence. If he has two soulmates already in Kendra and Carter, what’s to say he doesn’t have room in his soul for you too?”

Len’s choked on his own tongue as he tried to argue the point and couldn’t find a fallacy. He knew Stein was joking, mostly, but _yeurgh._

Mick put an end to the torment. “Go wake up the kid and make your flamey evolution while I work out the resonance.”

***

_The Mechanic’s Tale_

Firestorm, Julian, Mick, and Len sat around a long metal table in the kitchen. (Well, Len lounged more than sat, really, half on his chair and half on Mick’s shoulder. If his partner hadn’t wanted to be lounged upon, he shouldn’t have picked a spot next to a known lounger... especially not after initiating hand holding back at the ranch. Len had a lot of touching to make up for. It was warm and eased the loneliness inside of him. Once, he’d have said ‘eased the loneliness in his soul’, but talking about lonely souls had a dangerous connotation these days.)

Mick kept poking his fingers into Firestorm’s flames, and they were letting him get away with it. Probably to look magnanimous in front of Stein’s soulmate.

“I’d like to point out that I really don’t want to know who my soulmate is,” Firestorm logged Jax’s complaint. “I’m too young for this. And what if it turns out to be a total stranger? No offense, Julian.”

Len cut a glance to the affrontable stranger. Since it was impossible to tell whose opinion Firestorm was espousing at any given moment, hopefully Julian attributed all of that to Jax.

Indeed, Julian shrugged like the sentiment didn’t matter to him, which was a nice change from the usual Waverider interpersonal dramas.

Len didn’t believe in showing too much sympathy. “Tough luck. Savage took away your chance to live your life on your own timeline,” he said. It was a running theme for Jax. Stein forced him onto the ship; Savage forced him to hunt for a pointless soulmate. And all those stolen choices came with obligations, unrequested strings.

Mick had a bit more compassion. “We’ll get you worked out quick.” He opened a packet of crackers and brought one to his face, examining it. Sniffing, licking, nibbling. _Really, Mick. Is this the time to lick things?_ It was so distracting. 

Len shifted in his seat, coincidentally leaning more strongly on Mick’s un-crackered arm.

“Was it difficult to find _me_?” Julian asked. Practical.

Len snorted. “Well, first we ran into the man who cursed us.”

“I’d like to avoid doing that again,” Mick said.

Firestorm nodded. Or, at least, their head-flames dipped. “We all resonate with Savage’s power.”

“Which will make it difficult, yes,” Len agreed, “but Gideon should be able to filter out the interference.”

Julian’s head tilted quizzically. “I don’t think that’s what they mean,” he said.

“No, you’re missing the point,” said Firestorm. “We _all_ resonate with his power now, as only Kendra and Carter did before. So we should all be able to, y’know.” He made a stabbing motion.

Mick’s mouth made an impressed sort of frown. “No need to wake Birdie then.” Mick nodded happily, and took this news as a sign to nosh on his cracker. Len allowed it since these actions didn’t mess with the lounging position at all.

“We need a plan,” Firestorm said. As if either Jax or Stein had experience or a proven track record with planning vicious things.

“We’ve got a plan. We’re going to kill him,” said Len. 

Julian startled at that, looked to Firestorm for confirmation, then appeared to decide that if his soulmate approved so did he. Disturbing their crewmates had been so difficult lately; it was nice to have someone new and relatively innocent aboard.

“Just leave it to us, Professor.” And then Mick turned his torso so that Len fell against his chest and into his lap. 

Unprepared, Len twisted and hit the floor on his knees. “Miiiiiick.” But Mick was laughing, a pure sound he hadn’t made in so long. It caused Len’s heart to double-trip and his lips to form a smug, answering smirk. Len supposed he didn’t really mind being unseated all that much.

***

_The Criminals’ Tale_

It was far in the future, and the people didn’t look right. Len could recognize that they’d landed in a city. It had tall buildings and cleared streets. But the people.

They had iridescent skin and elongated noses that could have been beaks. Their speech was a high pitched chatter broken up with long pauses during which no obvious semantic meaning was communicated. _Fashions change. Languages change. But what is this?_ Len didn’t dare ask out loud, lest his completely sensible sentences draw attention to the group.

Finding Savage was a relief. The man’s skin was painted to mimic the bioluminescent glow, and he wore a beaky mask, but he was clearly a normal human. Alone in a room with them—at least, it resembled a room—with three concrete walls, one wall made of trees, and a ceiling that appeared to be flimsy drop-cloth plastic—Savage honked a gloating laugh that his beak magnified in truly unfortunate ways. 

Chained in the corner, a human-looking Carter curled in a ball. 

“Only two of you?” Savage asked.

Len gestured to himself and Firestorm. “That’s all we need.” Mick had gone hunting for another entrance, and no one else was mentally prepared to face Savage. (With the exception of Julian, of course, but he was no Legend.)

Savage divested himself of the beak mask, and he looked just like himself. Len shouldn’t have found it comforting, but this future was throwing him off his game. “Tell you what,” said Savage, clearly relishing the ability to take dramatic pauses. “I’ll let you have this version of Prince Khufu, if you _Legends_ give up on your petty plans.”

Len drew his cold gun and cocked it at Savage.

The immortal simply opened his arms wide, as if to welcome attack. “We’ve played this game before. Your weapons cannot hurt me.”

“No,” said Mick from behind Savage. He’d crept in through the tree-wall, wielding the Egyptian dagger. “But this can.” 

And Mick stabbed Savage in the back with one of the few weapons in the world that could affect him. 

Savage laughed harder, but his eyes went wide and panicked when a dribble of blood painted his smiling lips.

“Shouldn’t have made a bunch of soulmates who can kill you,” Len said, shaking his head like it was such a shame.

But Savage didn’t fall, instead struggling to get away from the dagger. Mick knew how to stab a man in the heart, so what had gone wrong?

Firestorm hummed, and it sounded almost like Stein speaking through Jax’s lips. “Just one soulmate isn’t enough,” they explained. “Since Kendra is tied to Savage, when she stabs him it’s with double the soulmate power. They resonate on the same frequency, which is what makes the knife vibrate through Savage’s soul and kill him. Without Kendra, _two_ soulmates need to hold the knife.”

Which was a problem. They’d left two sets of soulmates in 20117. Jax didn’t have one, and Stein had left his on the ship. Future!Carter was a complete mess in the corner. 

Savage was laughing again. “You cannot hurt me!” he crowed to the plastic sheeting overhead. “I am the beginning and the end. I am—”

Len circled behind the monologuing villain and put his hand over Mick’s. He twisted the knife, hard, until blood ran hot between his fingers and slicked his grip on Mick and the hit.

Dripping with his enemy’s fading life, Len returned to his place in front of Savage. He cocked a hip out to the side and draped his gun nonchalantly over his shoulder. And he watched. He watched Savage’s eyes bulge. He watched black blood trickle from Savage’s mouth. He watched Savage crumple to the ground, leaving Mick standing tall and red-flecked behind him. He watched Mick pick up the dagger. The dagger they’d used together.

“He’s dead, Jim.” Len couldn’t resist the _Star Trek_ reference when stuck in a strange and distant future.

“Now that we know it works, let’s do it again,” Mick said.

“What?” huffed Firestorm from the other side of the room where he was freeing Future!Carter from his bonds.

“Sure,” said Len.

So they did. 

***

2152\. They killed Vandal Savage.

2015\. They killed Vandal Savage.

1944\. They killed Vandal Savage.

1799\. They killed Vandal Savage.

Then they got bored and skipped back to the medieval castle where Savage had set himself up as court sorcerer. They found him in his wizardly chambers, surrounded by stone walls and bubbling beakers. 

“Ah, my friends,” Savage greeted them. “It’s been a year and a day. Have you come to beg me to lift your curse?”

Len shook his head and bantered, keeping Savage’s attention. “Not gonna lie: I came back to steal some goods from your trophy room,” he lied.

“Beg all you like.” Savage’s nasty grin would be the last grin he got to enjoy. “I’m not going to help you.”

“Nah,” said Mick, stabbing him in the back as usual. 

As usual, Len joined in. And, as usual, Savage was confused until he was dead.

In a pantomime of medieval courtly love, Mick took Len’s bloody hand and kissed the back of it. 

Len’s heart raced, and his skin shivered the way it had on the day Savage had cursed the team. Breathless, he gripped the fingers around his. “Really?” he asked. 

Mick stared deep into Len’s eyes. “Stupid spell’s been lifted,” he said.

On the other side of Savage’s collapsed body, Firestorm separated. For once, Jax didn’t fall to the ground in extreme pain. 

Jax crowed his happiness at his freedom. “Guess once he was dead, his spell ended.”

Len felt his ribs tremble with hope. “Well, if no one is _forcing_ anything...” He offered Mick his arm like a gallant gentleman. “May I escort you to the ship, soulmate-mine?”

“Nothing would make me happier, soul-partner.”

***

As the Legendary villains sauntered off into the Waverider’s nearby invisibility field, Jax asked Stein, “Did you know they were soulmates?”

They heard Len’s voice saying, “Let’s not fight anymore.”

Mick said, “Agreed, Lenny.”

Stein got stuck on “Lenny” and never did answer Jax’s question. But, no, he’d had no idea.

**Author's Note:**

> On the chosen soulmates:  
> * I don’t watch Arrow, so most of what I know about Nyssa is from the Arrowverse Wiki. Sure, she’s supposed to have exploded recently, but I figured she could be secretly convalescing, especially if the remaining LoA people want to reinstate her as their leader.   
> * Ray/Barry. I thought this would be fun and awkward. Also, I can see them being complementary to one another (which is the point of soulmates, right, someone whose personality and values complement/support yours?).  
> * Stein not having Clarissa as his soulmate. I wanted to show that you don’t always end up with your soulmate, but that you can be happy anyway. Of course, that meant I had to have platonic soulmates be a thing because I don’t believe in infidelity in my heroes. Hopefully that isn’t too confusing.
> 
> Tracking:  
> When I decided to do Coldwave Week, it was already two weeks too late, and I hadn’t given any thought to the stories that would fit the themes. I decided I’d try to write a short story a day and post them vaguely together. (My SO immediately laughed.)   
> * Finished first story draft on 8/27 (from 8/24).   
> * Finished second story draft on 9/8. Yeah.... the SO was definitely right.


End file.
